


Quiet

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Gags, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: Ferdinand is too loud. Linhardt improvises.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	Quiet

“Ferdinand.” Linhard’s eyes were sharp. “You need to be quiet.” 

Ferdinand took a deep breath and nodded, although doing so felt almost like lying. He wasn’t sure he  _ could _ be quiet. “I will try my best!” 

“You can’t just  _ try, _ you have to actually do it. It’s the  _ middle of the day,  _ Ferdinand. Someone could walk past anytime. The walls are thick, but the door isn’t.” 

Linhardt was not exactly known for his sense of propriety, which made the scene all the more noteworthy - that it was  _ Linhardt  _ chastising  _ Ferdinand  _ and not the other way around. Ferdinand felt like a fool, but the truth was, even holding perfectly still, being inside Linhardt felt so good it was all he could do not to let out another moan. 

“There is less of a chance someone will walk by  _ my  _ room,” he told Linhardt. “Why are we not doing this there, where it is more secluded?” 

“I hardly got a chance to wake up before you were on top of me,” Linhardt said. “You expect me to go all the way upstairs when I haven’t even been awake for ten minutes?” 

He was right, of course. Ferdinand had burst into Linhardt’s room to see if he wanted to do anything, take a walk or train together or perhaps just sit by the pond, only to find him lying in bed, dozing, the sun radiant on his emerald-green hair. He had  _ glowed,  _ and Ferdinand had kissed him awake, had felt Linhardt grow hard against him almost instantly. They had kissed for a while, and one thing had led to another, and now Linhardt was on his back with Ferdinand inside of him, his hair fanning out across the pillow, his chest flushed, his eyes narrowed.

“I  _ will _ be quiet,” Ferdinand said. It would be cruel to make Linhardt move just because  _ Ferdinand _ couldn’t keep his mouth shut. No, no, they would stay here, and Ferdinand would be quiet, for Linhardt’s sake.

“Are you going to keep moving?” 

“I - yes, of course,” Ferdinand said, but knew the moment he did so that it was a mistake. It felt as if the pleasure took his barriers away - as if the noise he made came from some deep place he could not control. 

_ “Ferdinand,” _ Linhardt said, irritated, “I’m serious…” 

Ferdinand, out of his head with some strange mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, could not imagine how loud he must have been to make Linhardt so adamant. “I am truly sorry. I am not sure I can do this.”

“Do I need to gag you?” 

Ferdinand looked at him sharply. It was hard, sometimes, to tell when Linhardt was joking; but even if he was, his idea wasn’t a bad one. “Perhaps you should,” Ferdinand said, and pulled out of Linhardt slowly, just barely suppressing a groan. 

Linhardt got up into a sitting position, then, slowly, languorously, rose to his feet. All of his movements were graceful and fluid, almost catlike. He was nothing like Ferdinand, who was bold, quick, and frequently clumsy. 

Ferdinand watched him open a drawer and rummage through it, returning with something in his hand. “Are you sure about this?” Linhardt said, raising his eyebrows. 

Ferdinand looked down at what Linhardt was holding: a sock.

“It’s clean.”

Ferdinand swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, I am sure.” 

Linhardt stared at him another moment, then blinked owlishly. “Okay. Open up.”

He obeyed, and Linhardt pushed the sock into his mouth. It was the first time Ferdinand had ever had anything like it there, and he rubbed his tongue against it experimentally. It was dry and strange-textured, but not  _ that  _ uncomfortable. 

“Still fine?” 

Ferdinand tried to say  _ Yes _ , but made an incomprehensible noise instead. He laughed and nodded - how silly, to have already forgotten about the gag! - and Linhardt smiled back. Ferdinand knew he must look odd with his mouth full of sock, but Linhardt seemed to be laughing  _ with _ him, not  _ at  _ him, so Ferdinand tried not to give it a second thought.

“Remember,” Linhardt said, “You can take it out whenever you want.”

This time Ferdinand remembered just to nod. 

“Hopefully this works,” Linhardt said. “Nothing to do but test it, I suppose.” He lay back down and bent his legs at the knees, his feet flat on the bed. It was an invitation as clear as day. 

Ferdinand wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, how stunning; if he had use of his mouth, he would have begun to babble, would have done so until Linhardt got impatient and said “So  _ fuck _ me already,” and Ferdinand, feigning shock, would have blushed and complied, moaning and babbling all the while. But Ferdinand could not babble, not now - and Linhardt was looking at him, handsome and beautiful, aroused and expectant… 

Like something clicking into place, Ferdinand moved towards him all at once. Putting on the gag had cooled his blood a bit, but one glance at Linhardt lying naked on the bed was enough to reverse that, and he was able to slide inside Linhardt with no effort at all, as easily as if they’d never paused to begin with. Ferdinand’s voice sounded strange to his ears, muffled as it was, but Linhardt didn’t reprimand him for being loud this time, so perhaps the gag was doing its job. 

Which meant, of course, that Ferdinand no longer had to hold himself back.

He fucked Linhardt with all the force he hadn’t dared to use before. It was not nearly enough to hurt Linhardt, of course, but he’d been going so  _ slow, _ with an overabundance of caution _.  _ Throwing that to the wind made Ferdinand feel positively wild. He set a fast pace, feeling Linhardt tight and hot around him, and so damned good he could hardly stand it. 

Before, Ferdinand must have been drowning out Linhardt’s sounds, but now he could hear them clearly - breathy, almost whiny half-moans coming out in time with Ferdinand’s thrusts. Linhardt’s head was thrown back, his eyes dark, cheeks flushed red, lips parted; Ferdinand longed to kiss him, to feel the vibrations of those quiet moans in his own mouth, on his own lips.

But he could not. All he could do was translate his frantic wanting into his thrusts, and watch Linhardt, and listen to him, and feel him. The rhythm grew in intensity until Ferdinand was thrumming with it, alive with it; the rush of sensation was almost-but-not-quite too much for him to take. And then he came, his orgasm taking him practically by surprise; he bit down on the sock til his teeth hurt, and groaned hard enough that without the gag, the whole of Garreg Mach would have heard his pleasure.

As soon as he had pulled out, Linhardt grabbed one of Ferdinand’s hands and jerked it towards his own cock. “Keep going,” he said,  _ “please,” _ and Ferdinand did, of course, all the while aching to kiss him for the thousandth time that afternoon. He could only watch, enraptured, as Linhardt tensed and spilled himself all over his own belly and Ferdinand’s hand.

For a long minute they sat in silence. Ferdinand watched as Linhardt’s breaths became slower and the flushed-pink color of his cheeks slowly faded back to his normal complexion. Then: “You can take that out, you know.” 

Ferdinand gave a muffled laugh and pulled the sock from his mouth. It was unpleasantly wet; he set it on the very edge of Linhardt’s bed, as far away as he could reach. His tongue felt strange, almost like it wasn't his own.

“Have some water, if you want,” Linhardt said, gesturing to the glass and pitcher on his desk.

Ferdinand drank nearly all of it, then glanced back over his shoulder at the bed. The sun had shifted, and Linhardt was in shadow now, his expression soft and questioning. 

“Come back,” he said to Ferdinand, and patted the bed beside himself. Ferdinand rushed over and lay down next to him, and Linhardt pressed against him, making almost their entire bodies touch. The drag of skin-on-skin was wonderful, Ferdinand thought, and he sighed with pleasure.

“You're being very quiet,” Linhardt said.

There was something behind that simple phrase. Had he known Linhardt less intimately, Ferdinand might have missed it. 

Linhardt, he suspected, was worried.

Ferdinand rubbed his lips. They were a little dry, but not painful. Like his tongue, they felt strange, but the feeling was quickly fading. “Linhardt,” he said, “was I too… rough? Forceful?”

“No,” Linhardt said. “You were not. And you  _ know  _ I would have told you if you were.”

“Yes,” Ferdinand said, nodding, because it had happened before, and Linhardt had let him know very clearly the  _ second _ he’d crossed that line. Linhardt was not one to suffer in silence, something for which Ferdinand was eminently grateful. 

“If you don’t want to do it again,” Linhardt said slowly, “we don’t have to.” 

Again: that worry. Ferdinand swallowed, pulling away just to look Linhardt in the eye. “It was… not unpleasant,” he said.

Linhardt raised his eyebrows. 

“To be frank, I quite enjoyed it,” Ferdinand said. “More than I expected. I was able to, ah, let myself go, one might say.” 

“Because you didn’t need to worry about being so loud?”

“Yes, and… hmm. I am not sure how to put it.” He brought his hand up to his hair, playing with a piece of it as he tried to come up with the words. “I could not get distracted by talking, so I was very focused. More so than normal, even.” 

Linhardt looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. Ferdinand could see the tension in his expression ebb away. “You know that I don’t  _ mind _ your talking,” he said, taking Ferdinand’s hand in his. “It’s just the  _ volume _ of the talking. And the noises. Particularly in the middle of the day, here.” 

“No worries. I am well aware.” Ferdinand smiled. “I have a lot to make up for, however.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I was unable to tell you how radiant you are, and how handsome, and how arousing-”

“Ugh,  _ stop,” _ Linhardt said, half-heartedly pushing him away. It was not at all convincing; he hadn’t even let go of Ferdinand’s hand. 

“And I was unable to kiss you.” 

Linhardt did not even pretend to push him away this time. He met Ferdinand's lips halfway, and they fell back on the bed together, kissing, Ferdinand’s hand tangled in Linhardt’s hair, Linhardt’s hand resting against Ferdinand’s chest. 

“And did you like it?” Ferdinand asked, once they had parted. 

“I  _ always _ like it,” Linhardt said dryly. “I thought you would have realized this by now.”

“The - the gag, I meant,” Ferdinand said. “Did you like the gag?”

Linhardt paused to consider this. “I did,” he said at last. “At least, I didn't  _ not _ like it. I appreciate how well it served its purpose. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to quiet down enough to actually fuck me.”

“L-Linhardt!”

“Why were you so loud today, anyways? You certainly aren't this loud all the time.”

The focus turning back to him made Ferdinand grow shy. To talk about his body, his wants and needs, had been devilishly tough at first, and it had only gotten a little easier with time. “It has been so long since we were last together, physically…”

"I know," Linhardt said, sighing. “Six days.”

“And during that time, I suppose I must have grown more sensitive.” Ferdinand laughed at himself for the strangeness of the idea. “My body was not used to yours any longer.”

Linhardt stared at him through narrow eyes, until Ferdinand felt a little like a lobster in a rapidly-heating pot. “My sweet,” he said, “what-”

“Do you masturbate, Ferdinand?”

“I - excuse me?”

“Do you… pleasure yourself? Get off? Touch yourself? Make yourself come, in between the times we have sex?”

“I knew what you meant!” Ferdinand said quickly, feeling his cheeks growing hot. “I was simply surprised by the question.”

“Well, do you?”

“I… used to,” Ferdinand said finally. “But once we began getting physical, I no longer felt the need.”

Linhardt was frowning. “So now you just… don’t?”

“Is… is that abnormal?”

“Well, it explains why you’re so sensitive.” Linhardt smiled. A lock of hair fell across his face, and Ferdinand longed to brush it away for him. He held himself back, though; he did not want Linhardt to feel like he was being interrupted. “In any event, there’s nothing  _ wrong _ with masturbating,” Linhardt went on. “Or  _ not  _ masturbating, I guess, although I can hardly imagine the idea.” 

“Do you…?”

“All the time.” Linhardt said. “And I  _ know  _ that’s normal. So don’t feel like you need to hold back on my account. If today was any indication, you will have plenty of stamina to spare.”

“Linhardt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for talking to me.”

“It isn’t something you need to thank me for,” Linhardt said. “You should know by now that I enjoy it.”

But that was precisely  _ why _ Ferdinand wanted to thank him! - because, when he was with Linhardt, Ferdinand never felt like he was boring or annoying; he never felt unwanted or un-listened to. And only rarely did he feel too loud.

“Thank you,” he said again, and beamed.

“You, Ferdinand von Aegir,” Linhardt said, “are an exceedingly strange man.”

Ferdinand’s smile only grew. Coming from Linhardt, that felt very much like a compliment. 

**Author's Note:**

> [\- my twitter](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)


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